


Fucking Nancy

by Florayna



Series: Farcry 5's (better) Good Ending [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florayna/pseuds/Florayna
Summary: A flashback to how things used to be happens.Nancy is dealt with.And so is Rook.





	Fucking Nancy

At the end of their journey back, Hudson realized something but a handful of seconds too late.

 

Everyone forgot about Nancy.

 

Dispatch. Fifty-something, two sons, a couple grand kids. Silver hair done up in a tight bun, knocking back black coffee like a starving woman in an oasis. Skittish, untamed, __unhinged.__ Maybe they should’ve known she would make easy prey for the cult, but back then they didn’t really know anything about the Seeds. And nobody thought to be wary of betrayal from one of their own.

 

“Yo-You killed ‘im! You KILLED the Father!”

 

Hudson had made it four steps into the Sheriff’s office before Nancy emerged from the storage room, pumped her shotgun and pointed it at the deputy.

 

And that was some bullshit.

 

Because this place was suppose to be safe. It was still the same way they’d left it before the whole Eden’s Gate shitstorm. Pratt’s desk was littered with magazines in one of the corners of the room, and her own space next to his was an organized train wreck of a mess. Rook’s desk was more of the same. Candy bar wrappers and half written reports, blinds raised and window left open because __who was going to rob the sheriff’s office right__.

 

“Nancy…” Hudson’s voice was soft and pleading, but hoarse. One of the many indications of the hell she’d gone through.

 

“That’s NOT MY NAME!” The elder woman screamed back. Good. Whitehorse and Rook would hear. They were still outside, helping Pratt. The shotgun quivered in Nancy’s arms. “Faith has given me a new name. I… I am the hand of Jacob!” She raised her arms, levelling the shotgun so Hudson was staring down the barrel. Hudson clenched her jaw, mouth dry. __Fuck.__ “And you sinners are going to-”  
  
  


A shadow appeared in the window.

 

Then there was the muted clack of a suppressed pistol.

 

 

 

 

 

 

__“_ Are you serious Pratt?” _

_Hudson rolled her eyes when he peeked over the top of his idea of ‘reading material’. The latest issue of Glory Girls (With Guns)._

_“What, you wanna look? Pull up a chair, I got tons a’ spa-” He cut himself off, giggling when the shitty plastic office pen smacked into the front of his magazine._

_“No no, when Whitehorse catches you I ain’t going to share the blame.” Hudson leaned back in her chair, another pen in her right hand, flicking between her index and middle fingers. “Besides. One of us has to be a role model for Rookie over here.”_

_Rook looked up at the mention of her ‘name’. It was surprising she’d heard them, being so absorbed by the snickers bar in her left hand and the phone in her right._  
  
_“What’s up?”_

_“Nothing…” Hudson might’ve continued, but the sound of an engine idling in front of the station gave her pause. She turned a smirk towards Pratt at the sound that followed; footsteps._

_“Sheriff’s back.”_

_“Shit.” Pratt panicked, throwing open the drawers of his desk, only to find that he didn’t have enough space to store his guilty pleasure. “Uh-” The footsteps were nearly at the door now._

_“Rook!” His hushed but insistent plea for help was followed by the man flinging his magazine across the room. She flailed momentarily, dropping the chocolate bar to grab the magazine, and after a second of panic as the doors to the office opened, she threw the damn thing out the window._

_“Afternoon deputies.”_

_“Afternoon!” Pratt said quickly, with an all too wide smile and desk suspiciously bare._

  
  
_“Hey Sheriff.” Hudson continued to flick her pen back and forth, the stack of paperwork he’d left on her desk that morning untouched._

  
  
_“Good to see you sir.” Rook’s absent-minded greeting as she searched for her discarded treat beneath her desk, from where she surely could NOT see him._

_And Whitehorse had no idea what he was running. A Sheriff’s Office, or a Daycare._

__

 

Rook sat on the back porch of the office, shielded from the sun by the trees that grew beside it. She doesn’t know what they’re doing about Nancy’s body, doesn’t care. The elderly woman might have been a friend before but it’s not the same as when she shot Eli. No, he was a good man, who even staring down the face of death couldn’t bring himself to loose an arrow at her. So unbelievably loyal. So unlike Nancy, who left them to die in that hell and had been prepared to shoot Hudson barely half an hour ago.

 

But pulling the trigger felt just the same.

 

That realization after the shot rang out. The breath that escaped her, staring down at a wound there could be no recovery from. None of this was her fault, that she knew. It was Jacob’s brainwashing and Nancy was too far gone to be reasoned with. But that didn’t change the after taste of guilt.

 

She didn’t acknowledge the door opening behind her.

 

“Rook?”

Hudson’s footsteps were slow, and when they stopped, the Deputy was sitting next to her on the dusty concrete steps. Rook’s eyes were fixed on the grass, but as silence settled between them she could just imagine the look in Hudson’s. Confusion, probably. Furrowing her brow like she was staring at the most fucked up, complicated puzzle in the world. Trying to figure out what was going on in Rook’s head.

 

“You need to put Stacy and I in cells.” Rook said, words nearly lost to the breeze with how quietly she spoke. As if the words were a confession- they were, in some sense. A confession of the danger she posed to everyone around her.

 

“I know.” Hudson muttered back as she draped an arm around the other’s shoulders, pulling her close. “He told me about what happened.”

 

Part of Rook wanted to be ashamed that Hudson knew of her weakness. Ashamed that Pratt might have told her about the days spent helpless against Jacob. That she lost herself like some blissed up angel. That she murdered Eli. The possibility itself brought a chill to Rook’s bones…

 

But Hudson’s arms were so warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Few things to note- Suppressed gunfire is still loud! But, well, for the sake of the mechanics in-game we'll say suppressors are far more effective in this fic than IRL. 
> 
> Also, fuck Nancy. 
> 
> And finally; If it wasn't as easy to grasp as I tried to make it, Rook wants to be locked up to avoid an 'Only You' incident. Would be a shame to survive all that only to end up killing all your friends because someone accidentally turned on a radio.


End file.
